Chapter 12: Blood Sport

The training grounds were bathed in the soft, golden glow of the early morning sun, casting long shadows over the worn earth.

The air was thick with anticipation as the duel was underway, the kind that only comes before a duel between two of the most promising trainees in the Spearman's Consortium, a title Daniel had definitely earned after his astonishing progress over the course of mere weeks.

Around the perimeter, the other trainees gathered in a loose circle, their eyes fixed on the two figures standing in the centre: Daniel Gailor and Faelar Aewyn.

Following the initial clash, Daniel stood with his spear at the ready, his grip firm but relaxed, his eyes locked onto his opponent. Across from him, Faelar Aewyn, the arrogant elf whose noble lineage was as sharp as his spear, sneered with a confidence that bordered on disdain. His long, silver hair was pulled back tightly, highlighting his angular features, and his posture was one of supreme confidence, as if the outcome of the duel had already been decided in his favour.

Faelar moved next, aiming for Daniel's midsection with a speed that would have overwhelmed a lesser opponent. But Daniel, with his newly honed instincts and natural agility, sidestepped the strike, his own spear coming up to deflect the blow with a resounding clang.

"He's quick!" Seraphina Dawnlight whispered to Tristan Riverton, her warm eyes filled with concern and admiration as she watched Daniel. "He's come so far since he first joined us."

Tristan, nervously clutching the strap of his satchel, nodded, his wide eyes never leaving the duel. "Yeah, but Faelar’s got that look… like he’s going to really hurt him."

Faelar, seeing his initial attack thwarted, twisted his spear in a fluid motion, bringing the butt end around to strike at Daniel’s head. Daniel ducked just in time, the wooden shaft whistling over his head. He rolled to the side, coming up in a crouch, his spear held defensively.

"Come now, Gailor," Faelar’s sneer was as sharp as his spear. "Is this really the best you can manage? I’ve seen children handle a spear with more grace. I suppose it’s no surprise—commoners rarely aspire to more than mediocrity.

Daniel’s jaw clenched, but he refused to bite. Without a word, he surged forward, his spear a blur of rapid jabs aimed straight at Faelar’s chest. The elf parried each strike with almost effortless precision, his movements smooth and practiced. But there was a fire in Daniel’s eyes, a determination that Faelar had not expected.

"That’s it, Daniel! Don’t let him get to you!" Seraphina cheered, her voice filled with encouragement.

Captain Roderic watched with a critical eye, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "The man’s got spirit," he muttered to himself, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But spirit alone won’t win this."

The duel continued, the two combatants locked in a fierce exchange of blows. Faelar’s technique was flawless, each movement precise and calculated, while Daniel fought with a raw intensity, his attacks unpredictable and driven by sheer willpower and an unnatural affinity. The other trainees watched in awe, the clash of wood on wood ringing in their ears like a symphony of battle.

"Faelar’s pushing him hard," Tristan muttered, his brow furrowed with worry. "I just hope Daniel can keep up."

As if in response to Tristan’s words, Faelar suddenly shifted his stance, his spear moving in a sweeping arc aimed at Daniel’s legs. The elf’s speed was unmatched, and Daniel barely had time to react. He leaped back, but the tip of Faelar’s spear caught his thigh, drawing a thin line of blood.

A searing pain shot through Daniel’s thigh, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to give ground. Warm blood trickled down his leg, staining the dirt beneath him as he tightened his grip on the spear. He spun his spear in his hands, ignoring the throbbing in his leg, and lunged at Faelar with a powerful thrust aimed at the elf’s chest. Faelar’s eyes widened in surprise at the ferocity of the attack, and he was forced to retreat, as the point of Daniel’s spear was grazing his tunic.

"He got him!" Seraphina exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.

Faelar’s eyes flashed with anger, his pride wounded by the fact that Daniel had managed to land a hit, however slight. He pressed forward with renewed aggression, his spear a mirage as he unleashed a flurry of strikes. Daniel was driven back, his defence barely holding as he blocked and dodged as best he could.

Roderic’s voice cut through the chaos. "Hold your ground, Daniel! Don’t let him dictate the pace!"

Daniel gritted his teeth, Roderic’s words echoing in his mind. He dug his heels into the dirt, refusing to be pushed back any further. With a roar, he thrust his spear forward, aiming for Faelar’s shoulder. The elf deflected the blow, but Daniel didn’t relent. He spun on his heel, bringing the butt of his spear around in a sweeping arc that caught Faelar across the ribs.

The impact sent Faelar stumbling to the side, a look of shock on his face. The other trainees gasped, their eyes wide with disbelief. Daniel had landed a solid blow, and Faelar, the arrogant elf who had always looked down on him, was struggling to regain his footing.

"Yes! That’s the way!" Tristan cheered, his usual nervousness forgotten in the heat of the moment.

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Faelar’s eyes narrowed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You’ll regret that, Gailor," he hissed, his voice low and venomous. He lunged at Daniel with renewed fury, his spear aimed at the human’s heart.

But Daniel was ready. He sidestepped the thrust, his own spear coming up to deflect the blow. The two combatants were now locked in a desperate struggle, their spears clashing with a fury that left the spectators breathless.

For a moment, it seemed as though Daniel might actually win. His movements were faster, more fluid than ever before, and Faelar was on the defensive, his superior technique barely keeping him ahead of the onslaught. But then, in a split second, Faelar saw his opening.

With a sudden, vicious twist of his spear, Faelar disarmed Daniel, sending his weapon spinning through the air. Before Daniel could react, Faelar’s spear was at his throat, the tip pressing against his skin and drawing a thin line of blood.

"Yield," Faelar demanded, his voice cold and triumphant.

Daniel hesitated, his chest heaving with exertion, sweat dripping down his face. He looked into Faelar’s eyes, saw the determination there, and knew that he had given his all. With a deep breath, he nodded.

"I yield," Daniel said, his voice steady despite the sting of defeat.

Captain Roderic stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate attention. "The duel is over! Faelar Aewyn is the victor!" He paused, his gaze sweeping over the assembled trainees. "But let this be a lesson to all of you. Victory is earned through skill and determination. Daniel, you fought well—better than I expected."

The trainees began to disperse, some of them clapping Daniel on the back as they passed. Seraphina was the first to reach him, her face alight with admiration. "You were amazing, Daniel! You nearly had him!"

Tristan, ever the nervous one, nodded vigorously. "Yeah! Faelar looked like he was really sweating there for a moment."

Daniel managed a smile, though his leg throbbed painfully where Faelar’s spear had cut him. Daniel forced a grin, though the throbbing in his leg made it difficult to hide his pain. "Thanks, guys. I mean, nearly beating Faelar in my first duel? No big deal, right?" His voice was light, but beneath the humour was a hint of disappointment.

Faelar, overhearing the conversation, scoffed. "‘Nearly beating me’?" he repeated, his voice filled with disdain. "As if. You were lucky to land even a single hit, Gailor."

Daniel raised a nonchalant eyebrow towards the egomaniac. "Yeah, I’m level one, mate. You’ve got a few attributes on me, sure. But imagine if we were on even footing, Faelar."

Faelar smirked for the slightest moment before adopting his superior demeanour, "I was told to limit my attributes to account for the fact that you maintain a laughable level. I'm younger than you by a good few years, I would wager, and I'm level four." Faelar sharply motioned his head towards the watching trainees before adding, "Even the worst of them is level two. Honestly."

Daniel grimaced upon realising he had made himself look a fool, clearly thinking he was more advanced than he actually was, before stating, "Be that as it may. You've been training far longer than I have, it's just a matter of time before I'm walking you around this arena like a pet."

Seraphina, sensing the tension, quickly stepped between them, her expression gentle but firm. "Alright, enough of that. We’re all on the same side here."

Faelar sneered, but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he turned on his heel and stalked away, his pride clearly wounded.

Daniel watched him go, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. He had lost, but it hadn’t been a humiliating defeat. He had proven to himself—and to the others—that he was more than just a beginner.

"Don’t let him get to you," Seraphina said softly, placing a comforting hand on Daniel’s shoulder. "You did great."

Tristan nodded in agreement, though his gaze flicked nervously to where Faelar had disappeared. "Yeah, and next time, you’ll beat him for sure."

Daniel chuckled, though the sound was tinged with fatigue. "Maybe. But for now, I just need to catch my breath."

As they made their way off the training grounds, the conversation turned to Daniel’s progress. Seraphina was quick to point out how much he had improved in such a short time, while Tristan marvelled at how well Daniel had adapted to the rigours of the Consortium’s training.

"I remember when you first arrived," Seraphina said with a smile. "You could barely hold a spear properly. And now look at you—you almost took down Faelar!"

Daniel smiled at that, though a part of him still ached with the sting of defeat. "I guess I’ve had some good teachers, like our warm and caring Captain," he said, his gaze drifting to where Captain Roderic was watching from a distance, his stern face unreadable.

Later, after they had all cleaned up and returned to the barracks, the conversation shifted to more mundane topics, including Daniel’s life before joining the Consortium. His stories of his family back in the far away "region" of Canada were always a source of fascination and amusement for the other trainees, especially his tales of trying to navigate life with two young children and a loving, if occasionally exasperated, wife.

"You must miss them a lot, spending so many hours here," Seraphina said, her voice softening as they sat around the barracks' common room.

Daniel nodded, his thoughts drifting to Izabelle and the kids. "Yeah, I do. But this is important. We’ve got to find a way to make this world safe—for them and for everyone else."

As the conversation wound down, the trainees gradually drifted off to their own tasks, leaving Daniel alone with his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the feeling that today’s duel was just a small taste of the challenges that lay ahead. However, despite the pain in his leg and the sting of defeat, he felt a growing sense of determination.

The night came quietly, with the cool air settling over the city of Sylvara. Daniel sat in the small, sparsely-furnished room that had become his temporary home, the sounds of the city outside a comforting reminder that life continued, even in the face of uncertainty.

After the nightly family ritual of aether control practice, the kids were laid to bed and Izzy simply laid with her head on Daniel's chest. The pair didn't spend much time together these days, which meant moments like these were cherished beyond words. But for now, the weight of the day’s events pressed down on him, and he allowed himself to rest, knowing that tomorrow would bring new challenges, new opportunities to prove himself.

And as sleep finally claimed him, Daniel dreamed not of duels or battles, but of home—a place where he was not just a trainee, but a father, a husband, and a protector. A place he would fight to return to, no matter the cost.